Turkish Delight
by Ailsa
Summary: Have you ever actually had Turkish Delight? It's not as good as they came it seem, is it? Well, here's my take on why Edmund actually likes it.


The Queen was the most beautiful woman Edmund's eyes ever came across. She was tall and thin and powerful and wore the most beautiful silvery-white robes that glittered with magic. Her voice was soft with a gentle coo and she was...mesmerizing.

"What would you like to eat?" She whispered.

Edmund gulped. He could think of all the foods he loved to eat--pizza, fish and chips, and English toffee--but the food was too ordinary, he thought, much too ordinary to impress the Queen.

Instead he tried to think of something more exotic. He pressed his lips together as he glanced sidelong at the snow along the sleeve of his jumper. Its soft white flakes reminded him of powdered sugar, the type on the gelatin candies Mr. Pevensie would bring home to Christmas dinners. What was it called?

"Turkish Delight?" Edmund guessed, hoping he got the word right.

He looked up into the Queen's face, hoping she was impressed by his knowledge of exotic foods. She looked down and smiled at him. His heart beat quicker than normal.

"As you wish," she said.

The dwarf handed Edmund the candy, and Edmund tried to eat like a gentleman to impress the Queen: he took a square cautiously in his fingers and bit into a corner. The Turkish Delight was far more delicious than he ever remembered it being. Its powdered sugar was sweet and light and cool, but the jelly was so gooey and warm that it stuck to his teeth and he could feel its magic spread over his tongue and down his throat. When he finished his first piece he grabbed another.

His head was swimming in delight when the Queen reached a hand up to his hairline and brushed away some of his bangs. Her eyes were lowered with a dreamy look and Edmund felt his eyes slip down to the front of her dress. He could see two soft white mounds of flesh bearing against the hard silvery bodice--but then he quickly remembered his manners and pretended to be interested in his candy.

"How many of you are there, Edmund?"

"Four. I have two sisters, one's younger than me and one is older. Then I have an older brother too." Edmund realized he shouldn't have mentioned Peter. What if the Queen liked Peter more than him? Everyone liked Peter, after all. Peter was taller, stronger, and in Finchley neighbors even refered to Peter as the more handsome Pevensie boy.

"He's very ugly and stupid though," Edmund quickly added, "so stupid that he always has to listen to me or else he'd get in all sorts of trouble. He's a bully, really, and is always trying to torment my younger sister Lucy."

He glanced up into the Queen's smiling face as he bit into another piece of the gooey sweet. She dusted the powdered sugar off his his mouth, and one of her icy knuckles brushed against his lower lip. He suddenly felt it was difficult to breath and his heart raced.

"Have any of your siblings been to Narnia before?"

"Lucy has. She says she had tea with a faun called Tumnus."

"I would like you to bring her and your other siblings back, Edmund. They will have the titles of duke and duchesses, but you'll be their king."

"Their king?" Edmund echoed. "But if you're already Queen..."

His words faltered and he glanced up at the Witch. He shoved an entire piece of Turkish Delight into his mouth and chewed viogorously at it.

The Queen didn't say anything, her fur coat was still wrapped around his shoulders and she moved a long hand up to his shoulder, and slid it across the base of his neck.

"Remember to bring them to me, Edmund, or else I shall be very angry with you. You don't want me to be angry, do you?"

"No your majesty."

"Good, and once you bring them to me you can rule Narnia with me. See that castle far off into the distance in the valley of the mountains? That is where I live, and once you come over you can have as much Turkish Delight as you can ever possibly want."

Edmund didn't give a damn about the candy, but he nodded.

"Yes your majesty."


End file.
